“Has-sa-tch? [Your name?]” he inquired. “Le Chassè’,” answered Jules. “Facteur?” he continued. Silently the Indian closed the gate and led the way across to a big log building. He went in, Jules following. “Sa-ner,” the Indian said briefly to a tall white man, and turned away.
“What do ye want?” The factor’s questions were sharp and curt.
“Somme t’ing to h’eat—am hongree,” Jules answered.
“Two hundred and twenty miles, mon?” The factor was incredulous.
“Oui, heet destroy!” Jules said quietly, looking at the big Scotchman.
“Ah-ha! that’s fine; we’ll show that Nor’west Company that we can push ’em out. Did ye see any pairson gettin’ awa’?” he asked then.
“Weel, tell me, did ye know aught o’ a mon somewhaire downe in that deestrict called—Let me see; Le Pendu was here last week and told me his name—Verbox, Verbax, something like that?”
“Oui, Ah know heem; he leeve au sud long way h’off,” Jules answered, and the gray eyes snapped.
“Weel, ye go an’ get ye summat to eat, but ye’ll have to pay me in furs!” The factor looked keenly at the big French-Canadian before him.
“Certainement!” Jules answered, and went out of the store. A voyageur showed him to the supply-house, and he got some pemmican, tea and bread, and a blanket. Then he cooked himself a meal at one of the tepee fires and ate long, but slowly and carefully. When he had finished, he went over and squatted silently with a group of Indian trappers and Canadian voyageurs. He was tired out, but his long sufferings seemed dulled; he rested and listened to the low, monotonous hum of the rough voices about him, rarely speaking himself. A French trapper took pity on the haggard face, and when one by one the crowd turned in, he touched Jules on the arm.
“S’lip là-bas!” he said, pointing to a tepee across the stockade. Jules bowed his head. “Merci!” he said, and went to his new friend’s camp.
It was a big tepee; the circular interior was covered with skins, and wolf-hides were patched together for a floor. The light consisted of three fat candles held up by sticks; they fluttered and flickered at the draft the two men created on entering. In one corner was an Indian girl of the Ojibway type. She rose as they came in, and Jules sighed to himself as he saw two children asleep together. The girl was tall and graceful, with almond black eyes, like those of a deer; long, straight black hair fell away from each side of her small head, and the yellow, uncertain light shone dreamily over the delicately browned face; the high, straight nose threw a shadow on her cheek, and the small, well-shaped chin was gracefully poised over the slender throat. She stood shyly by her husband, and the small hand crept into his big one.
